


Beautiful World

by Alexandria (heartfullofelves)



Category: Humans (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Space, Alternate Universe - Space Opera, F/F, Femslash February, Lesbians in Space
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-09
Updated: 2017-02-09
Packaged: 2018-09-21 03:13:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9529298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartfullofelves/pseuds/Alexandria
Summary: Wanted criminal Niska is on the run when she meets Astrid on a luxury city-planet. But what seems like paradise soon becomes hell when the planet is invaded.





	

Niska landed her ship, _Calypso_ , on Metropolis, the busiest and most expensive city-planet of this star system. Modelled on the ancient Earth cities of Las Vegas and Honolulu, Metropolis boasted big hotels, big restaurants, big shopping malls, big casinos, big everything. Niska could disappear in this place packed full of so many people. And that was the plan.

She checked her radar and, satisfied no-one had followed her, turned off the engine. She paid the fee for the parking space she’d taken and took her one suitcase with her inside the station. Ducking her head away from the security cameras, she marched straight to the ladies’ room, where she opened up her suitcase and put in some blue-tinted contact lenses. She then tied her hair in a bun and put on a short pink wig (bright colours were always fashionable on these planets). Temporary disguise complete, she went outside to find a hover taxi to take her to a motel.

Motels weren’t as popular as hotels on Metropolis, so she didn’t have to pay much to stay overnight. As soon as she was inside the standard-sized room, she found the box of red hair dye she’d bought last night. She hesitated, unsure now that she saw the colour in daylight. She applied it anyway, trying not to make a mess of the motel bathroom or towels. The dye looked better on her than on the box. It suited her.

She decided that if the police didn’t catch her in 24 hours, she would find somewhere to rent for a while, doing the last thing they would expect her to do. What fugitive would run only to the next star system over and settle down on the busiest planet there? A daring one. A smart one. One like Niska.

She smiled.

Twenty-four hours later, there was no sign of any police officers after her. Confident in her new disguise – the blonde synth they were after was no longer – she left the motel, searching for an apartment in one of the cheaper areas of Metropolis. She wasn’t fussy – interested in neither aesthetic nor comfort, she only wanted a place to stay – and took the second one she looked at, a crème-coloured spartan apartment in the northwest. The landlords were desperate for tenants, so she had a mere one-week wait until she could move in. She crossed accommodation off her mental to-do list.

The next thing to do was shopping: she needed clothes and would soon require furniture. Most importantly, however, she needed a computer. She bought a black palm-sized gadget from someone in the street, not having enough money after her motel stay and the bond and advanced rent to buy one new. But with this computer and some basic hacking, she fixed this little issue in mere minutes.

Bank account (under an alias, _obviously_ ) looking healthy, she hit the mall. She didn’t need much: a few changes of clothes to maintain her human identity, including underwear and socks, and a sofa bed and lamp for her flat. She booked the sofa’s delivery for the afternoon she would move in, and checked in at a different motel; her pursuers hadn’t caught up with her, but she couldn’t be too careful.

The night after she’d moved into her flat, she went to one of the nightclubs Metropolis was famous for. Being a synth, she couldn’t dance – had never tried, but her instincts and her programming told her not to bother – and she definitely couldn’t drink, so she stayed in the corner and observed the masses of people indulging in what she couldn’t. She stood near the DJ, watching her change the songs and turn the bass up and down, fascinated that this DJ made playing other people’s music into an art form.

She’d been watching the DJ for maybe half an hour when she met the eyes of a pretty brunette from across the floor. Startled, Niska turned away and left the club.

The girl stayed on her mind the next day, and she couldn’t help going to the nightclub again that night, around the same time as before, but after a few minutes she realised the brunette wasn’t there and left, cursing herself for getting her hopes up.

She tried to tell herself there was no point in returning the next night, but another part of her, the part that had lived with humans and absorbed their ways of thinking, said that the third time was always lucky and she should therefore try her luck.

She was successful.

Standing by the DJ, who was a conscious male synth this time, she noted with delight, she found herself looking into the brunette’s eyes, up close this time.

“I saw you here the other night,” the stranger shouted above the music.

“That’s why I came back,” replied Niska.

The girl grinned. “What’s your name?”

She hesitated, then answered, “Niska.”

“Nice to meet you, Niska.” The brunette had a strong accent, and Niska liked the way she said her name, taking care to pronounce the A at the end of it. “I’m Astrid. I came over here to ask you to dance… but it’s cool if it’s not your thing.” Ah, she was noticing Niska’s coolness. “Is it?” she asked. “Your thing?”

Niska met Astrid’s gaze and said, “Yes.”

An hour later, they were back at Niska’s new flat. Her mind hummed with desire, but she’d never been good at expressing her needs, and was relieved when Astrid made the first move, reaching up to kiss her.

Astrid pulled away, no doubt noticing Niska’s lack of reaction. “Are you sure you want this?” There was a little crease on her brow.

The tiniest smile quirked at the side of Niska’s lips. “You’ll know when I don’t,” she said.

This time, when they kissed they touched each other with their hands. Niska’s cheek and jaw melted under Astrid’s touch, and in return she caressed Astrid’s arms as their lips danced together.

“Got a bed?” Astrid asked when the kiss ended.

“Sofa bed.” Niska tugged off her shirt and held out her hand to Astrid, leading her over to the sofa.

“You don’t have much,” observed Astrid as she glanced around.

“I don’t need much. And I just moved in.” Niska hoped this would be enough to satisfy and convince Astrid that Niska was a normal person just like her.

Apparently it was, for Astrid let go of Niska’s hand to take off her jacket and throw it into the corner of the room. “You don’t seem like you’ve done this before,” she said, smiling or perhaps smirking a little.

“I haven’t.”

Synths couldn’t lie, no matter how much they might wish they could. But they were programmed to be honest and to sense a lie when they heard one. Conscious or not, they were all the same that way.

“Well,” said Astrid, stripping out of her shirt and putting her hands on Niska’s hips, “let me show you a few things.”

With her hands and her mouth, she showed Niska a few things for the rest of the night. Only when morning began to dawn did Astrid ask if they could fold out the couch and go to bed properly. Niska couldn’t say no.

When she woke up from sleep mode, her legs and her red hair were tangled with Astrid’s. She lay with her arm propping up her head, watching Astrid sleep. She looked peaceful, snuffling a little into the pillow. Niska wondered if she’d ever seen something so perfect, so endearing. She soon decided she hadn’t.

When a strand of hair fell in Astrid’s face, Niska brushed it away, not wanting her view obscured in any way, and Astrid opened her eyes. She blinked like a lazy cat, and stretched. “Hi,” she groaned.

“Morning,” Niska greeted the sleepy girl beside her. Not knowing the proper etiquette for this situation – she had, in fact, never taken a stranger on a luxury planet home before – she let Astrid take the lead.

Astrid struggled to sit up, and put half her hair into a messy bun. “Want to go out for breakfast?”

Niska considered the offer. Unlike humans, she didn’t need to consume food and water for survival, but eating – and going out to eat – was an essential part of being human, and since that was what she was pretending to be, there was no reasonable way for her to decline.

Besides, and this was the main reason, though she wouldn’t admit it to anyone, she wanted to spend more time with this stranger from the club. “Okay,” she said with a miniature smile.

At breakfast, she found out that Astrid was from Cosmopolis, one of the outer planets of this star system, and she’d come to Metropolis last year, she said, to work and live in one of the greatest places in the galaxy. When she asked Niska why she’d come to Metropolis, Niska wished she had a philosophical answer ready about what attracted her to the luxury city-planet, but she went with the truth and revealed that she was on the run and it was the last place her pursuers would search. She didn’t reveal what she was wanted for. She didn’t want to scare Astrid off, but she also wasn’t yet sure how much she could trust this girl.

Astrid raised her eyebrows. “Wow, wasn’t expecting that. You’re full of secrets, aren’t you?”

“You have no idea.” Niska smiled to soften the intense look she knew she was giving Astrid. “You’re lucky I told you that much.”

“Clearly.” One thing that confused synths was sarcasm, but Niska suspected Astrid was being sarcastic here.

Niska didn’t reveal much else about herself, only that she had a family she cared about and planned to find when things had blown over. Astrid nodded, saying that she missed the loved ones she’d left behind on Cosmopolis and understood Niska’s need to find her family.

Then came the ultimate question: “How long are you staying on Metropolis for?”

“I don’t know,” replied Niska. “Until it’s safe for me to go elsewhere. Until they’ve given up searching for me.”

“Rough guess?” Astrid probed.

“At least a month or two.” Noticing Astrid’s subtle change of expression, Niska added, “Maybe more.”

“Good. You’ll have plenty of time to experience all the glories of Metropolis, then.”

Against her better judgement, knowing there was no way for it to end well, no way for it to end without saying goodbye forever, Niska counted Astrid as one of the glories of Metropolis to experience over and over again.

* * *

Two months later, Niska and Astrid went shopping. Astrid had decided that Niska couldn’t live on one set of underwear and socks, two tops, and one pair of leggings, and had dragged her to one of the great central city malls to set her right.

Astrid made Niska try on black jeans, which she bought; shorts, which she hesitated over and then bought; and a dress, which she didn’t even consider buying and took off without even glancing in the mirror. Niska also bought a long-sleeved shirt and a denim jacket, for it was autumn and Astrid kept asking her why she didn’t feel the cold. She couldn’t keep putting off an answer forever.

Then it was time for new underwear.

Astrid led Niska into a lingerie shop, and she glanced around feeling lost. Taking pity on her, Astrid found a nice brand that made both sexy and practical lingerie. Niska fingered a black and white spotted bra that caught her eye.

“Try it on,” Astrid encouraged.

She came into the changing cubicle with Niska and helped her try on the bra. When Niska looked in the mirror, she felt Astrid’s heat behind her and saw Astrid’s enlarged pupils.

“You’re breathing heavier,” she observed. “Don’t tell me you’re turned on.”

Astrid grinned. “What, by a hot woman in a gorgeous bra? Never.”

Niska turned around and kissed Astrid hard, pushing her back against the cubicle door. Astrid was much faster and more skilled at stripping off the bra than Niska had been to put it on.

After their very rewarding stop in the lingerie store, they needed a break. Astrid was hungry after a few hours’ shopping and the quickie in the changing room, so they headed down a level to the food court. Astrid bought a Cosmopolisian burger, something that, she said, reminded her of home, while Niska got a Metropolisian salad. Unable to avoid eating when she was with Astrid, she’d solved the problem by sticking an artificial stomach down her throat to maintain her disguise. Eating was a social thing, so being able to eat made her feel more human, more natural.

Not long after they’d sat down, Niska’s ears picked up the sound of heavy engines, the sort used for spacecraft, above the shopping centre. Writing it off as a military practice, she didn’t think much of it and turned her concentration back to her salad and to her conversation with Astrid about the rising cost of food.

“It’s a bloody rip-off,” Astrid was saying, speaking around the food in her mouth.

Niska nodded. “It’s not a star system-wide recession?”

“No, the big corporations here on Metropolis are just getting greedier. And the worst thing is, they’re getting away with it. Tourists pay the price if they can, and if not they go somewhere else. But for us, the workers, the people who live here, we don’t have a choice.”

The food court exploded with white light, and an army of blue figures marched in. The aliens were tall, humanoid, and blue, and Niska recognised them as the Mort from the stories she used to read to Sophie Hawkins. She didn’t have time to process the fact that _the Mort were real_ before they began shooting, transforming the food court into a battlefield. People fell down like flies, blood painting the white floors and walls.

“Get down!” She grabbed Astrid’s arm and pulled her under the table.

Astrid cried out as they moved, curling up in a ball and whimpering when she hit the floor. She swore in her native tongue.

Niska glanced over Astrid’s body, starting at her head and working her way down until she got to Astrid’s lower leg, which had a bullet inside it that wasn’t meant to be there. _Shit_ , she thought, and began assuring Astrid that she’d be okay and as soon as they got out of here they’d get medical help.

 _If_ they got out of here. The Mort in the stories weren’t known for being merciful.  

“I need to take a look at your wound,” said Niska, hand on Astrid’s shoulder.

Biting her lip, Astrid nodded, rolling onto her back like a patient in hospital.

Niska touched the area around the wound on Astrid’s calf, but wasn’t able to see because of her clothes. She had nothing with which to cut the fabric, so she whispered, “I’m going to have to take off your jeans.”

“Is this really the time?” Astrid panted, gritting her teeth. Her face paled by the second.

Niska fixed her with a steady look. “So I can find the bullet.”

Astrid was about to reply when the Mort’s footsteps and the sound of gunshots grew louder. Niska froze, as did Astrid, and they stared at each other in silence. Niska saw Astrid shiver, and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, putting her finger over her lips as the Mort approached.

The Mort grabbed Niska and Astrid by their limbs and pulled them out from under the table, Astrid screaming in pain and Niska lashing out to deal them blows that had little, if any, impact. Knowing this, she turned into a fighting machine anyway, punching and kicking and slapping, but she was outnumbered and the Mort had guns. They pointed one between Astrid’s eyes. Niska halted, held by the shoulders by one of their captors and gazing into Astrid’s tear-filled eyes.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

One of the Mort sniffed the women. “We’ll take this one,” it said, pointing to Astrid. It turned to Niska. “As for this one, lock it up; we don’t need synths.”

“What?” said Astrid, brown eyes wide as, putting all her weight on one leg, she struggled to stay upright.

Niska shook her head, keeping Astrid’s gaze as they were dragged away in opposite directions. She wasn’t sure why the Mort were here, or what their goal was. All she knew was that she wouldn’t let this be the last time she saw Astrid Schaeffer.

* * *

Niska was locked in a bathroom with a group of synths, male and female, none of whom were self-aware. They stood up straight in the centre of the room. Niska perched on the blue Galactic marble bench between two of the sinks and scrutinised these synths. She could get them to help her escape, but she doubted they would follow her to relative safety; they wouldn’t trust her because she wasn’t quite one of them; she was different.

She scanned the room, ceiling to floor, left to right. She gave the ceiling another glance, and smiled when she saw she wouldn’t need anyone’s help at all.

Taking care not to slip, she stood up on the bench and reached up to the fan in the ceiling. She had no tools on her, the Mort having searched her before locking her in here, but she was strong enough to rip out the fan with her bare hands. The other synths turned towards the noise, but she ignored them and let the fan drop onto the floor before she reached inside the space behind where it had been and made sure there were no broken wires lying around. Satisfied it was clear, she jumped and hoisted herself up into the vent. It wasn’t original, she thought as she slid along the narrow chamber, but as long as the Mort didn’t predict it, that didn’t matter. It worked, and that was the main thing.

She didn’t have enough space to crawl and she couldn’t see a thing, but she followed the chamber for a great distance, having observed that the bathroom was in the centre of the ground floor of the shopping mall, and slowed when the vibrations in the walls felt different; she’d found the exterior wall. She heard a huge bang, and froze. It must have been one of the Mort’s bombs in another section of the mall. Gunfire soon followed the explosion, and she relaxed a little at the knowledge that the Mort were otherwise preoccupied, even though she knew what it meant for the people in the mall.

She kicked out a fan and jumped down into the car park adjoining the mall. Scanning the area, she saw there was no-one around, only empty hover cars. She hurried over to the outside edge of the car park and, crouching beside a hover car, looked outside. The street was empty, a shocking sight for Metropolis, whose streets were busy all year round, no matter the season or the hour. Triple checking there were no humans, synths, or Mort in the vicinity, Niska leapt over the car park barrier and ran.

The mall wasn’t far from her flat, and she made it most of the way home before hearing the unmistakeable footprints of a group of Mort soldiers somewhere in the street behind her. She whipped around the next corner and flattened herself against the wall. Seconds seemed like hours as she waited for it to be clear. As soon as the Mort had passed on straight ahead, she sprinted the rest of the way, knowing she was lucky it was getting dark early. Autumn had to be good for something.

Since the Mort had taken her keys, Niska had to break into her own flat. She must have been the last person in Metropolis to own a physical key for any purpose, but it was more convenient than having to fix an iris scanner all the time. Now, though, an iris scanner would have been most welcome.

Grateful her apartment was on the first storey, she was able to scale the wall outside. A Mort patrol marched down the street nearby, and she hoisted herself over her balcony rail and lay flat on the floor. She stared up at the bottom of the balcony above hers; it was filthy. After the Mort footsteps had passed, she counted to thirty before standing. Taking hold of the window sill, she stepped back over the balcony rail and inched around the left side of her flat until she reached the bathroom window. _Thank you, Astrid, for keeping it open._

Niska trembled with the weight of her own body as she used one arm to push the window open further. Once it had gone as far as it could, she took hold of the window ledge and pushed herself through the gap, almost losing her grip as her shoes slid on the Lunar brick exterior. She jumped over the toilet, onto the bathroom floor. She’d made it.

She tiptoed over to her front door, putting her ear against it and checking for any sign of life from her neighbours. She couldn’t hear anything. She closed all the windows and blinds in her flat before creeping towards the tel-wall, switching it on and lowering the volume before flicking to her preferred news channel. She stood in front of the huge screen to listen to the bulletin, not sitting down in case she had to leave in a hurry.

“… invaded the planet of Metropolis. The invasion reportedly began with attacks in public spaces all over the city-planet about four hours ago. Witnesses say the invaders are now patrolling the streets. An estimated 100 human souls have been killed since the start of the invasion, however those captured alive have been taken prisoner on board the Mort’s ship, which hovers above the city. Our sources say a large number of synths have also been imprisoned inside the places where they were captured.”

As the reporter spoke, footage of the invasion appeared on the screen. Dead bodies, human and synth, were scattered around a hover bus stop somewhere in the city, red and blue blood littering the pavement. It cut to a clip shot on someone’s phone, the shaky footage showing the Mort storming inside a shop and firing at the customers, a horrific scene much like the attack at the food court.

“We are not permitted to broadcast the plans for the Metropolisian military’s answer to this attack, although we have been advised to assure you that a defensive response will take place by tomorrow. Until then, we recommend that you stay indoors and avoid public areas where the Mort are roaming. If you are able to safely evacuate in your private ship, it is recommended that you do so immediately, but please be advised that all public transport is closed as it is under the control of the Mort. We’ll return shortly with further updates, but until then please remain calm and stay indoors.”

The camera cut to a presenter on the other side of the studio for the weather.

There was still no sign of the invaders in Niska’s building, leaving her to deduce she should stay put for now, as it would be too dangerous to leave with the Mort patrolling the streets. She packed a few things in a backpack: the key to _Calypso_ , her computer, contact lens solution, her wig, and changes of clothes for her and Astrid. As she put the clothes into her bag, she remembered the fun she’d had shopping with Astrid earlier that day, and touched the bra strap of the new bra she’d bought. It was the only new item she’d managed to keep; the Mort had taken everything else.

Having packed everything she needed, she rubbed her eyes, contacts having dried out. She removed the lenses and opened a packet of eye drops, blinking as the cold liquid hit her eyeballs. She rubbed her eyes again. That was better.

Ready to run if or when she needed to, she sat on the couch with the backpack beside her, facing the tel-wall. She plugged herself in to charge, unsure when she might next have the opportunity to do so, and put herself into the low power mode she tended to use while charging.

The late-night news bulletin a few hours later began with an update on the Mort invasion of Metropolis. Niska resumed her standard power level in order to listen.

“Whilst public areas such as shopping malls and transport hubs are still under the Mort’s control, residential areas on the east and south sides of the city-planet have been retaken by Metropolisian forces. The north, not having been reached by the Mort, is still largely at peace. The west side of the city is still in the Mort’s hands.”

Niska lived in the northwest, and had to consider the situation. Her area was not quite controlled by the Mort, but it hadn’t been saved by the military either. That put her in a precarious position where her part of town might become the front line in the battle between the Mort and the Metropolisian forces. _Shit_ , she concluded.

Seeing few alternatives, she set her self-timer for just before dawn, and put herself into sleep mode. Then, she would listen to any news updates and decide what to do. She had the same goal she’d had ever since the attack at the mall, but she needed more information before she could turn it into a plan.

Her goal? Get out, get _Calypso_ , and get Astrid. Simple. For now, she just had to wait.

* * *

Synths dreamt differently from humans. Niska had heard that human dreams told stories, that even if they made no sense, there was still a narrative. Niska dreamt in fragments of memories. She dreamt of Astrid’s face after she got shot; she dreamt of fleeing the police in her ship, _Calypso_ ; she dreamt of flying through space at the speed of light; she dreamt of meeting each of her siblings for the first time; she dreamt of reading stories of the Mort to Sophie; she dreamt of Astrid’s mouth on her last night.

When Niska opened her eyes, she took a moment to reorient herself. She was lying on the sofa and the tel-wall was on. She blinked once and sat up, memories flooding back. She stood up and stretched, creeping over to the windows to peer outside, and then over to the door to listen. She saw nothing, but she heard her next-door neighbour’s baby crying, and relaxed. She wasn’t the only one alive.

She hurried back to the sofa when the theme music for the dawn news bulletin played. This update was short, the only new information that the transport hubs across the city-planet had been retaken, but that the Mort still held the west.

Niska switched off the tel-wall, grabbed her backpack, and left the apartment. She jogged east for five blocks, and then south, heading for the central station where her ship was parked. Until she reached the city centre, she didn’t see a single human, only a few synths running errands for their owners. The humans were still too scared to venture out of their houses, leaving the dangerous jobs to their synths. This grim observation didn’t surprise her.

Once she got to the central city, there were more people out on the streets; not as much as usual for a Saturday morning, but compared to her suburb in the northwest, it was busy. A man – a tourist, judging from his strong accent and casual clothes – even asked her for the time. She was just entering the station when a cacophony of sounds came from the west. She picked out one big explosion and several smaller ones, as well as distant gunfire. She stopped in her tracks and turned in the direction of the noise, unable to see what was happening so far away, but able to make estimates based on the sounds she heard.

About ten minutes later, a huge ship flew overhead and ascended into the sky, towards the planet’s atmosphere. Niska stared, and then rushed to action; Astrid, if she were still alive, and Niska couldn’t bear thinking of the alternative, was on that ship. She had to act.

She ran inside the station, towards the private ship park, dodging people coming from all directions and ignoring their stares. She spotted _Calypso_ straight away, parked at the far end of the ship park entrance. Damning her past self for the inconvenience, she scanned the area for moving spacecraft and sprinted to her ship. She opened the ship door and jumped into the pilot’s seat, turning on the engine and reversing out of her park before lifting _Calypso_ ’s nose into the air. She switched the radio onto the news channel. She soon left the station behind, chasing the Mort’s ship and hoping she’d catch up before they broke the planet’s orbit. It would be much easier to catch them now while she could anticipate their course: they could only go up.

They were running out of sky when a fleet of smaller military fighters joined the chase. Niska hacked into their radio frequency. She listened to their plans and manoeuvred so she wasn’t in their way. She heard them wondering what the fuck she was doing flying after the Mort in her private ship. _Let it never be said that I was predictable,_ she thought, smiling to herself.

The Mort ship left the atmosphere and continued onwards to break out of Metropolis’s orbit. Niska and the army followed.

The Metropolisian military forced the Mort into passing Acropolis, the rocky military planet where the human armies for this star system were based. Niska rolled off into space, giving the military room to shoot down the Mort ship. She watched as it spun out of control and hurtled towards Acropolis, panels dented and leaking smoke. She couldn’t move as the Metropolisian defence followed the alien ship to its emergency landing on Acropolis. A minute later, she got her act together and hurtled after them.

She landed _Calypso_ beside the Mort ship, tailing the military as they stormed the enemy spacecraft, firing freely at the Mort and searching the ship for prisoners. She crouched beside one of the dead aliens and took its gun.

“What are you doing?” one of the military captains asked her, throwing his hands up in exasperation.

“I’m looking for someone. Don’t try and stop me,” she replied, familiarising herself with the Mort gun.

“Fine. But don’t get in our way.” The captain glared at her and led his group further down the corridor.

Niska saw them open a door and throw something inside it. Seconds later, a small explosion sent vibrations down the hallway, and she steadied herself before carrying on.

The army found the first lot of prisoners before she did, and she followed them in, ignoring the soldiers’ protests as she ran past them to search the prisoners. About 50 people were gathered in the dim and grimy cell, some holding onto others and some sitting against the walls, bleeding. The stench of human waste hung in the air. She scanned their faces.

“Not there?” asked the captain from earlier as she hurried out of the room.

She didn’t answer, instead going to the next room and yanking open the door. She tried three more rooms of prisoners, ignoring their desperate stares as she ran into and out of each one with determination made from fear, before she found Astrid. She dropped the gun to the floor with a thud.

Astrid was lying on her back, brown hair messy around her too-pale face, blood pooled around her. Niska ran to her side. Her eyes were closed and her chest still. Niska felt for a pulse and assessed the situation: Astrid had lost blood and needed to breathe. She needed CPR.

Niska didn’t have a breath.

Face blank, she stood and sprinted back into one of the first rooms of prisoners, where the soldiers were still helping the uninjured out of their cell and giving first aid to those who needed it. She swatted away a teenager who clutched her leg, begging for help. She grabbed the first soldier she could see that didn’t look busy.

“Can you do CPR?” she demanded.

“Yes,” replied the soldier, frowning. “Who are you?”

“Come with me.”

Niska grabbed the soldier’s arm and pulled her into the room where Astrid lay. She yanked the soldier in front of Astrid and said, “Help her.”

“She’s been shot…”

“I know.” Niska’s eyes flashed, and she gave the soldier another push.

She watched, frozen, as the soldier gave Astrid air and pumped her chest. Never having experienced this particular emotion before, Niska wasn’t sure how she felt, but it was a combination of helplessness at not being able to give Astrid the oxygen she required, and anticipation of the outcome.

After the second round of chest pumps, Astrid coughed and started breathing on her own. The soldier grinned at her successful resuscitation and went back to her work in the other room. Niska knelt in a puddle of red and lifted Astrid’s head onto her lap, stroking her matted hair. Astrid opened her eyes and struggled to grasp Niska’s other hand, too weak to do anything else, just gazing at Niska’s face above her.

“Your eyes are green,” Astrid observed in a whisper. “You really are a synth.”

“Yes.”

Niska knew they would have to talk about this at some stage, but for now it wasn’t worth wasting precious time discussing it. She stood, lifting Astrid bridal-style, grateful for her strong synthetic muscles as she carried Astrid out of her prison and onto _Calypso_.

Once on board, she laid Astrid down on the seats at the back of the cockpit and grabbed medical supplies from a cupboard. It was the first time strict spacecraft regulations had been more useful than not. She prepared a needle and injected it into Astrid’s calf without any warning. Astrid screamed, clutching at the seat and crying.

“Sorry,” said Niska, brushing the tears from Astrid’s cheeks.

Astrid held out her shaking hand to Niska, who held it. She took a few short breaths, but the medicine was already starting to dull the pain. “The bullet’s still in there,” she whispered.

“I know.” Niska stroked Astrid’s thumb. “I hear they have the best hospitals in Cosmopolis. We’ll arrive in a few hours.”

“My brother’s a doctor.” It wasn’t the first time Astrid had told her. Astrid offered a weak smile, eyes zoning out of focus. Her smile dropped when she begged, “Niska, please don’t let them cut off my leg,” trying but failing to concentrate on Niska’s face.

Niska gave her an amused look. “What century do you live in?”

But Astrid was already asleep.

Niska found an old blanket in one of the cupboards and, eyeing it in disgust, shook it out. She placed it over Astrid, kissed her pale forehead, and sat in the pilot’s seat. She turned on _Calypso_ ’s engine.

 _You can do it_ , she urged the ship as it started. It would be a push to fly to Cosmopolis in under six hours, but she had to make it. She _would_ make it, for Astrid.

After that, she didn’t know what she’d do. The police, if they were still searching for her, would have moved on to a different star system by now, so she wouldn’t have to worry about them if she stayed in Cosmopolis (she expected Astrid wouldn’t want to return to Metropolis after the trauma she’d suffered, and their flats near the west side might not even be habitable anymore) but her family was still out there in the galaxy somewhere, and she’d promised to keep searching for them.

But for now her priority was Astrid. Perhaps it always would be.


End file.
